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Post by avisis on Sept 3, 2011 22:24:15 GMT -5
Eye to eye. Just try to see eye to eye for a bit. Just put yourself in their position---
Ratchet's absent lines of advice have left him feeling less understood and more brushed-off. His latest mission has ended not in him approaching the medic for a quiet drink, as had become a sort of tradition, but rather a quiet visit to the washracks. He doesn't feel like dealing with Ratchet right now. If he's honest with himself, he's feeling a little sulky.
But mostly needing a buff. He's got a cloth, he's got a bench to himself, and he's got some silence. That's a good start for a good mood.
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Post by Conway on Sept 4, 2011 9:58:24 GMT -5
He did have the place to himself, but Hound had also had a mission today. A back country, no roads, wheel well deep in the mud kind of mission. He left tracks along the floor when he came in, giving the other bot a friendly but offhanded greeting on his way to the jets. He wasn't quite thinking when he turned them up to high. Soon mud was flying everywhere, high pressured water blasting the mud off off his chassis and onto everything around him.
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Post by avisis on Sept 4, 2011 10:27:33 GMT -5
"Afluhwehbgfafff!" is what came out in the first five seconds of unfettered shock as the spray of mud shot for his face.
"Pardon," is what he manages in the next few seconds of horror, now that he's got a hand between his mouth and the---the thing dousing itself in the next rack over.
"What are you doing?" is what finally ends it, horror seceding its place to reined-in frustration. The dirty splashes of water still sopping over his chestplate are streaking down his panels in filthy lines. He doesn't even know this bot---has seen him around in the hallways, chortling loudly at people, slapping backs like some good old mech. Honch? Hung? Hench?
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Post by Conway on Sept 4, 2011 10:50:54 GMT -5
It takes him a minute or so from the first objection to get the water turned down. "What? I'm- " Then he saw the mech...and the mud. "-Oh...oh, sorry." Maybe he should have moved down further but normally no one was around when he returned from his missions and he didn't even think about it. Well, oh well. They were in the wash racks so not like the guy couldn't just rinse it off. He did look mad though, didn't he...
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Post by avisis on Sept 4, 2011 11:15:55 GMT -5
"You should be." You should be, you daft motherfucker. You just doused me in a torrent of filth and god-knows-what because you couldn't be bothered to---
He inhales, lips thinning unattractively as he purses them to keep the rest of his growing speech in. He's misbehaving. Chastising himself, he inhales again, trying to reel in all his negativity with the gesture. "It's all right. I was here to tidy up anyway..."
He looks down at himself. Silt and grime, left behind by the trickles of water ferreting into his cracks and lines, streak his chassis. One hand automatically moves down to touch, gingerly, at a muddy burst, as someone might prod tentatively at an open wound. The injured distaste in his voice is subconscious, but present. "Now I am, anyway."
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Post by Conway on Sept 4, 2011 11:46:57 GMT -5
He eyes up the streaked racecar. He didn't know they guy, seen him around on occasion, with Ratchet maybe? Cliff didn't like him if he remembered correctly, but Cliff he didn't exactly trust Cliffs opinion. He at looked remorseful for dirtying Mirage's slick frame when he apologizes again, extending an at least cleaner than most of him hand to the other mech. " Sorry again, I'm Hound."
Wash racks are a perfectly acceptable place to make friends!
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Post by avisis on Sept 4, 2011 12:00:32 GMT -5
For a moment, Mirage just stares at the limb intruding into his washspace. He's in such a bad mood right now...he's just going to turn away, and go back to his buffing...
He forces his hand out. Forces his mouth to work itself into a non-frown. "It's all right. Mirage. I'm---I'm new."
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Post by Conway on Sept 4, 2011 12:08:44 GMT -5
"I've seen you around." Hound's encouraged, offering a smile when he shakes the hand. But he backs off afterwards to avoid offending further, returning to his washing. He's careful this time not to let water spray in Mirages direction.
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Post by avisis on Sept 4, 2011 18:23:27 GMT -5
The mech gives him his room, which he appreciates; he expected Hound to be the overenthusiastic, obtuse type. He responds with an automatic, short smile himself, then retreats to his own space to clean off.
For a time, there's silence. Mirage lets himself have a good hot spray-off and then takes his time buffing himself dry and shining again. The silent, attentive self-care does him good, and by the time he's sitting to shine his shoulders, he feels much better about the world in general and himself in specific. He glances over at the other mech for a more uninfluenced look. Solidly-built; a ground unit, probably scouter. Smiles, now and then, as if something funny has struck him. Mirage turns his eyes back to himself. All right.
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Post by Conway on Sept 4, 2011 19:07:11 GMT -5
Most of the filth is removed shortly from an inoffensive green chassis and he takes the time to make sure he's gotten all of it, he'd like to be clean for his report to Prowl. Although he maybe doesn't take as much time drying as he should and doesn't bother buffing at all. Hound avoided giving Mirage a look over, he could feel the other mech's eyes on him occasionally and would rather not get caught looking. He smiles and gives the race car a short wave on his way out. "Seeya around, Mirage."
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Post by avisis on Sept 4, 2011 21:22:31 GMT -5
He's a little startled by the interaction, so much so that he has to throw up a short, jerky wave in automatic response. "Ah---bye."
Bye, Hound. Hound, he reminds himself mentally. Hound. Not Hunch. He repeats the name a few more times. Hound. Ok. Not a particularly attractive name, but workable enough.
Within three days, he's forgotten all about the mech, which is why he doesn't look up for long when the green mech enters the rec room; he doesn't remember the name, just that he was irritating.
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Post by Conway on Sept 4, 2011 21:39:22 GMT -5
So it will probably be irritating when Hound takes the open seat right next to him. At least he's clean this time. "Hey, Mirage right? How's it going?"
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Post by avisis on Sept 4, 2011 21:55:50 GMT -5
Mirage straightens from his vidscreen, eyes wider than they should be; his surprise briefly removes his shield of calm. "Excuse me?" he begins.
He recovers fast, body language pulling tautly into fuck-offness. "Hello," he corrects. "It's going fine."
Hunch? Hedge? Howdy? Howdy-doody?
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Post by Conway on Sept 4, 2011 22:03:55 GMT -5
Oh, maybe not a good time. Hound's disappointed, he had thought despite the unfortunate introduction that they guy seemed open to interaction. But all signs right now are straight up negative. "Hound?" He offers hopefully. It's only been like three days but maybe he just doesn't remember him? They did meet when he was covered in mud.
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Post by avisis on Sept 4, 2011 22:12:46 GMT -5
He's only been on this turf for about two months; anyone who's approached him has been either offensively friendly in an attempt to break the ice, or (and this has been the more likely one, as time goes on and his personality gains him few favors or friends) stiffly dismissive. He's found returning the favor to be the most useful, so the tightening of his shoulderblades is pretty much automatic.
"I remember," he says shortly. If he looks back down at his vidscreen, the mech can't miss his meaning---though he probably will, judging from his build. Thick-set mech.
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